It was not much of a stove that Dave and Dan built, yet it was fitted and destined for the preparing of many a meal in record time.  First of all, Dave marked off the space to be used.  Four parallel lines of bricks, each line five bricks long, were laid on the ground.  Dave, with a two-foot rule, measured a distance of sixteen inches between each row.  Then began some amateur brick-laying.  It was not perfectly done, by any means, yet these four parallel walls of brick that were presently up afforded three “stoves” lying side by side.  As soon as the mortar was reasonably dried—–­and fire would help—–­grates and pieces of sheet iron could be laid across the tops of the walls over the three fires.  It was one of the simplest and most effective cooking devices that such a camp could have.  There was even a gas-stove oven, an old one, furnished by Dick’s mother.

“It makes me hungry to look at the stove,” declared Danny Grin.

“It’s four o’clock now, so you’ll have two hours more to wait,” smiled Dick, as he glanced at his watch.

Out of packing cases and some odds and ends of lumber Dick and Greg had constructed some very fair cupboards, with doors.

“Oh, if we only had ice for use in this hot weather!” sighed Greg.

“But we haven’t,” returned Dick, “so what’s the use of thinking of it.”

In the tent Tom and Harry were putting in some of the last taps of the hammer.  They had made a very creditable job of the flooring.  It was now five o’clock.  Dick & Co. had worked so briskly that they were now somewhat tired.

It had been an exciting day.  They had left Gridley in the forenoon, journeying for an hour and a half on the train.  Arriving at Porter the boys had eaten luncheons brought along with them.  Then they had hunted up a farmer, had bargained with him to haul their stuff and then had tramped out to their camping place.

But the camp looked as though bound to prove a success.  It was their camp, anyway, and they were happy.

“I’m glad enough of one thing,” murmured Dick as he rested, mopping his brow.

“I’m glad of several things I can think of,” rejoined Darry.

“The thing I refer to,” chuckled Prescott, “is Fred Ripley.”

“It never occurred to me to feel glad about Ripley,” muttered Tom dryly.

“I mean, I’m glad that he has gone to Canada with his father this summer,” Dick continued.  “We shan’t have a lot of things happening all the time, as we did last summer.  Rip was a hoodoo to us last summer.  This year we know that he’s too far away to be troublesome.”

“It will seem a bit strange, at first,” assented Reade, “to return to our camp and not discover that, while we were away, Rip had been along and slashed the tent to ribbons, or committed some other atrocious act.”

“Let’s not crow until we’re out of the woods,” suggested Darrin.  “Rip might come back from Canada, you know.”